


Five Times Dean Called Castiel Sweetheart (As a Joke and the One Time He Meant It)

by profound-boning (farawaystardust)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bunker Fluff, Castiel Makes Pie, Domestic Bliss, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Human Castiel, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, That's my new favorite tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:17:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5029855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farawaystardust/pseuds/profound-boning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Delicious breakfasts, beer with dinner, countless movie marathons after Dean and Sam hooked up a television and VHS/DVD player in one of the sitting rooms, hot showers, the smell of clean laundry... Yes, Castiel definitely enjoyed a lot of little things about his new life with the Winchesters.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The chance to get closer to Dean certainly didn't hurt.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Dean Called Castiel Sweetheart (As a Joke and the One Time He Meant It)

1

Life at the bunker was quickly becoming more and more comfortable. Castiel never imagined that human life could be so tedious and that he would enjoy the monotony so much.

Delicious breakfasts, beer with dinner, countless movie marathons after Dean and Sam hooked up a television and VHS/DVD player in one of the sitting rooms, hot showers, the smell of clean laundry… Yes, Castiel definitely enjoyed a lot of little things about his new life with the Winchesters.

The chance to get closer to Dean certainly didn't hurt.

The older Winchester clearly adored getting to have this kind of life, and Castiel couldn't help but hope that his presence pleasantly suited Dean's nesting instincts. Dean loved the hours he spent in the kitchen sporting the navy blue apron Sam brought home for him one day that read 'idjit' across the chest. They all had gotten a little misty eyed at the sight.

Castiel for his part enjoyed trying all the new foods that Dean prepared for them, and Dean always seemed quite eager to know what Castiel thought of each dish.

They didn't always eat in the kitchen though, and that was Castiel's downfall.

Plates ended up everywhere: the library, the war room, Castiel's bedroom, the basement, even the bathroom and the hallway.

It wasn't like he was intentionally trying to make their home dirty or unsafe, it was just that he often forgot. Sometimes they got a phone call from another hunter and had to go check the news or the library for information, but often it was just simple forgetfulness.

He hoped that his usefulness in other aspects of their life (like his affinity for doing laundry) would balance out this issue, but every time Dean tsked at him after finding another plate or bowl sitting around, it made Castiel feel funny.

He finally figured out what it was on one particular weeknight when he was walking to the kitchen, bringing his dirty dishes back with no small sense of pride in his success at remembering to do so.

Dean passed him in the hall and smirked. "Thank goodness you remembered this time. I'm not your maid, sweetheart," he drawled and nudged Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel simply nodded and kept moving. His stomach felt twisted up, cold and slimy. The funny feeling was sadness, disappointment in himself for having disappointed Dean. If he couldn't remember to pick up after himself, how could he be useful at all?

2

Luckily it would seem that the brothers still thought Castiel could be useful after all and did not exclude him from hunting.

They got word of a haunting in a small Mississippi town and all three of them set out in the Impala.

When they arrived at the motel, Sam said he would get the gear from the car if Dean would handle checking in, and Castiel followed him inside. The lobby looked clean and comfortable, which was always promising.

Dean wanted a room with three twin beds but there wasn't one available, so he asked for a cot to be brought into a standard room. Castiel tried to protest but Dean insisted that he only needed his four hours and "a cot's better than a bed sometimes, trust me."

The desk clerk was nice enough about everything that Castiel felt comfortable putting in a request for extra pillows, knowing that he'd sleep better with as many as he had in his bed at the bunker. The clerk looked at Dean when she said, "We can bring you extra pillows but it is going to be an extra charge."

Dean rolled his eyes and let out a big exhale before knocking his shoulder into Castiel's, saying, "Anything for you, sweetheart."

Getting his way didn't actually feel that good this time. He'd never meant to cost Dean extra money, but he knew that Dean wouldn't let him rescind the request so he kept quiet.

And then made sure one of the extra pillows made its way into Dean's cot that night, along with one of his blankets.

3

Castiel was always learning new vocabulary from the Winchesters, and it was Sam who taught him the idiom "woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

He couldn't quite understand that exactly the meaning of this was, because he'd carefully experimented waking up on opposite sides of the bed and evaluating his mood for the day with no solid results. Still, humans seemed to believe that there was some kind of correlation between their position upon waking and their mood, no matter how flimsy the science.

And flimsy though it is, that had to be the explanation for this day, even though Castiel was certain he had woken up on the left side not three days ago with no ill effects. Nothing—not his morning coffee nor a long shower—could cheer him up in spite of the fact that he had no real reason to feel upset about anything.

At lunch time, he opened the fridge to prepare a sandwich when the other shoe dropped. He searched fruitlessly for a few moments before huffing in frustration and nearly slamming the door shut.

The kale was gone.

Sam had eaten the last of it and not bothered to let him know or replace it.

Normally this wouldn't actually be anything majorly distressing, but Castiel was already in a terrible mood (apparently due to having exited the bed this morning from the left side) and it really got under his skin.

It was then that both Winchesters entered the kitchen, newspapers in hand.

"Sam," Castiel seethed, "the next time you're going to eat all of the food in this place, would you mind letting me know first? This is just ridiculous."

Sam's face fell since he knew at once what was going on. "Cas, dude, I'm sorry I ate it all okay? But we're gonna go shopping today or tomorrow. It's fine, really."

Castiel was not in the mood for Sam's placating hand gestures and scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. Dean looked between the two of them incredulously.

"What are you two going on about now?"

"Cas is upset—"

"I am not _upset,_ Sam, I just think you should be more conscientious in the future. We all have to share the fridge and just because Dean won't touch the kale doesn't mean you can eat it all on a whim," Castiel snapped.

Dean's eyebrows were practically to his hairline by now. "Kale? This is about kale?" He huffed a laugh and pushed past Castiel to sit at the table. "Calm down, sweetheart, we'll get your precious rabbit food from whatever farmer's market Sam's dragging me to tomorrow."

Castiel could only glare in response before leaving the brothers to their papers and lunch. He was too angry at himself to eat anymore. Of course Dean would think he's being ridiculous. It was stupid, really, he could just as easily have made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but instead he threw a hissy fit. No wonder Dean never takes him seriously.

Maybe going back to bed will assuage the negative effects of having risen on the left side.

4

This time, this time for sure it will work.

Castiel had been working tirelessly to get everything right, from the dough to the filling, and now this stupid lattice-style crust would be his demise.

He had had to start over no less than three times before he finally deemed his work good enough. It was by no means perfect, but it would be acceptable. Castiel put it in the oven and set about cleaning out the various bowls and utensils he had used while waiting for the timer to go off.

Like clockwork, Dean entered the kitchen as the warm aroma of apple pie filled the air.

"Cas—? You—. What?" Those green eyes huge as they flicked between Castiel's face and the pie on the counter.

"I made an apple pie," Castiel announced, hoping Dean would be pleased by his efforts. "I want—." But Dean cut him off with a laugh. Why was he laughing?

"Oh, oh I get it now," Dean said, shaking his head. "You're trying to butter me up about that guinea pig, aren't you sweetheart?" He was still smirking but Castiel could tell he was attempting to look serious. "It's not gonna happen, Cas. Pets are a lot of money and responsibility, and you can't just make a pie and—"

"Happy birthday, Dean."

Dean's arms dropped from where they had been crossed against his chest. "My—. What?"

"I wanted to make you a pie to wish you a happy birthday last week. Sam informed me the other day that it had already passed, and so I made the pie to make up for not having done anything on your actual birthday since we were on that hunt. I wasn't trying to 'butter you up' as you suggested. My apologies if that's what it seemed like. Now, if you'll excuse me."

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ Castiel thought as he hurried from the kitchen. Obviously Dean wouldn't want him to waste their groceries making a pie.

Dean had clearly been upset by his persistent requests for a pet guinea pig, and then Castiel made it worse by 'making a big deal' about his birthday, which he hates. It was all so stupid.

5

Castiel had avoided everything related to The Pie Incident for just over a week when Dean finally cornered him in the kitchen brewing some tea.

"There you are, Cas," he said, leaning on the counter. "You want to go out to eat tonight? There's a place downtown we haven't been to yet." Castiel only nodded but apparently that was enough for Dean, who departed as quickly as he'd come in, whistling something upbeat.

At 6:30 pm on the dot, Castiel heard Dean's familiar knock on his bedroom door. He was surprised to learn that Sam would not be joining them, but he didn't question it as he slid into the 'shotgun' seat. (No one could tell him why it was called shotgun, Dean's latest response having been "it just is, all right, Cas? Geez.")

The host sat them at a high table near the bar and eventually a tall, thin waitress brought them two menus.

"Hey, two beers please, whatever's dark and on tap," Dean informed her, and Castiel decided to follow Dean's lead.

"Yes, I'd like a beer, also. On tap." He couldn't understand the look that the waitress gave him, one eyebrow arched, and then she glanced at Dean who was also wearing an unreadable expression. Dean didn't say anything, grabbing a menu to examine the appetizers with a good deal of concentration. The waitress sauntered off and Castiel looked at his own menu, and before long Dean was cracking jokes about the decor, the music, and the people nearby.

It was in these moments Castiel really believed that Dean enjoyed spending time with him as much as he enjoyed spending time with Dean. Castiel knows that he is friends with Sam Winchester and that Sam most likely regards him as part of their family, but he's not naïve. He knows that he has a more profound bond with Dean, and Castiel finds himself wanting a more profound relationship, something that is intimate in a different way.

So the sight of the waitress at their table when he exited the bathroom was incredibly frustrating.

Because no matter how much Castiel wants to be in a relationship with Dean, it's obvious that Dean does not feel the same. Castiel just wished he didn't have to watch Dean flirt.

But he couldn't just hide in the bathroom until she went away, so he made his way back to the table not looking at Dean or the pretty and blonde waitress. They were smiling easily at each other and talking about something that Castiel probably wouldn't understand.

"Hey, sweetheart, why don't you grab another beer?"

And that was it. That does it. Castiel had had enough of this 'sweetheart' bullshit and of never being what Dean wants or doing the right thing. He was sick of it.

And so, without another word, Castiel grabbed his trench coat from the chair and stalked out of the restaurant.

+1

Dean was so nervous for tonight it's stupid.

He and Cas have gone out to eat literally dozens of times. Why should he be nervous?

 _Because this time I want it to be different,_ Dean thought to himself as he approached the library where Sam was hunched over an ancient-looking book.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean cleared his throat to get his little brother's attention. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure thing, Dean, what—?"

"It's nothing, just—just uh, get lost tonight would you?" Dean rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I mean, go out on your own for a while."

"Okay." Sam looked confused but nodded anyway. "I'll grab Cas and—"

"No!" Dean almost shouted. "N—no, me and Cas are gonna go out. I mean, we're having dinner. I mean, I—." He glared at the amused expression on Sam's face. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing." Sam laughed. "I'm just happy for you, you know?"

Dean blushed hard and tried to think of a comeback. He could deny that he wanted to take Cas out to dinner without his little brother there on purpose, but he didn't really want to. Besides, it seemed that Sam had expected this and he even seemed to be okay with it, smiling at him like an idiot. Dean ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly.

"I don't think anything's happening, Sammy. I didn't buy the dude a ring or some shit. It's just that he's been adjusting here alright and—and he made me a goddamn _pie_ and I just want him to know how much I—I appreciate him."

"You _appreciate_ him?" Sam looked incredulous. "Dean, honestly—"

"Shut up!" Dean called over his shoulder as he walked out the door. At least that was taken care of; now he just has to not actually give himself a heart attack for the next few hours.

 

Cas has been a little weird tonight.

Dean had tried to order them beers but Cas squashed that out. Did Dean order the wrong kind maybe? He thought Cas liked the stuff they had at home. Maybe he just wanted to try something new?

He was so lost in thought about this while Cas was using the bathroom that he didn't even notice their waitress approach.

"Listen," she said, startling him. "I just wanted to ask. That's your Impala out there, right? The '67?"

Dean gaped at her for a second before grinning. "You're absolutely right. Beauty, ain't she?"

"My dad owns the auto shop down the road." She smiled at him. "My brothers and I have been working on engines since we could hold on to wrenches. She's clearly a well-loved car."

"She was my dad's and he was a mechanic so we're in the same boat," said Dean who was more than happy to chat with a fellow grease monkey. "I've taken her apart and put her back together more times than I can count."

"That's great!" The waitress was leaning on the table now, asking all kinds of questions about Baby's bits and pieces.

When Dean saw Cas coming back, he couldn't help the goofy smile that spread on his face. This was the kind of life he never thought that he could have. Living somewhere secure with his kid brother, getting to keep Baby in a garage where she'd be safe, hunting and helping other hunters, and… Cas.

Dean had never expected to get so attached to the stubborn angel he stabbed in a barn all those years ago, but Cas had done so much for him over the years. He had literally died for Dean, turned his back on his heavenly family for him. Even when things went wrong (which was frequently) Cas always came back. And now, Dean wanted to tell him how much he wanted Cas to stay.

But first, he needed more alcohol. "Hey, sweetheart, why don't you grab another beer?" He thought that was okay, he'd just wanted Cas to ask the bartender for another round, after all Cas had drunk his entire glass, too. "Cas? Hey, Cas! What—?" And he was gone.

The waitress bit her lip and looked guilty. Is that what Cas was so upset about? Did he think Dean had been flirting with her? He muttered an apology to the waitress (he never did catch her name) and threw a twenty dollar bill on the table as he ran after Cas.

Cas was standing in the parking lot looking like he was debating walking home when Dean caught up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Cas? What's the matter?" Cas just shrugged him off.

"Don't be stupid, Dean, go back inside to your new friend."

"No way, Cas, not until you tell me what's going on."

Cas turned slightly to glare at Dean. "I'm tired, Dean. I know I don't always remember to clean the dishes and I know I was annoying you about the guinea pig and I know you'd prefer to have someone else's company but I'm trying, okay? I am _trying."_ And damn it if the way his voice broke on the last word didn't pierce Dean's heart.

"I know, Cas, I know you are. That's why I wanted to go out tonight. I wanted to tell you—"

"Tell me what, Dean? Tell me to stop trying to get close to you? Tell me to get over myself? Believe me, I would if I could."

 _What?_ Dean thinks his heart just did a somersault. Cas had brought his hands up to rub at his temples and Dean took them gently in his own, grazing over Cas's knuckles with his fingers.

"Cas, I don't want you to stop trying to get close to me. I don't want you to stop doing anything. You've been adapting to this so well and I'm so proud of you. You're absolutely amazing and getting to spend all this time with you without the literal apocalypse on our hands has been the best time of my life." Dean was pretty sure his face was tomato red from this little speech but the awe-struck look in Cas's wide blue eyes made it worthwhile. So he kept going.

"I'm so sorry. I am so incredibly sorry that I haven't made it more clear to you how much—how much having you here means to me. Someone else's company? Seriously? You don't need to worry, Cas. About anyone. Ever." Dean squeezed Cas's cold fingers gently.

Those beautiful eyes got even wider and possibly a little wet, but Dean could only see them for a moment before he had his arms full of Cas's embrace. He tucked his nose up on top of that unruly bedhead and breathed deeply, relishing the feeling of Cas's strong arms wrapping around his waist.

Dean smiled into Cas's temple and lowered his voice. "You're it for me, sweetheart."

**Author's Note:**

> [on tumblr](http://profound-boning.tumblr.com/post/135061716109/)


End file.
